


You Never Looked Like an Angel

by clare009



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 14:50:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1189212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clare009/pseuds/clare009
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl offers to give Carol a chance to get away from the prison for a bit, but when she shows up in a pair of tight, leather pants, there may be more to the trip than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Never Looked Like an Angel

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the thecaryldaily.tumblr.com Valentine's Day Naughty & Nice ficathon. 
> 
> Prompt: leather & lace
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own nothin'
> 
> Notes: thanks to easytheretyger and untapdtreasure for the beta & feedback

 

Daryl sat at his usual spot in the prison compound, mechanically shoveling down his bowl of oatmeal as he kept an eye on the slow trickle of people making their way through the breakfast line. He didn't like oatmeal, hated it, in fact. Sugar was rationed and so was the powdered milk, so the congealed mass in his bowl tasted bland and watery. He didn't give a crap, though, because food was food whether he liked it or not. He wasn't going to sit there and dream about eating no stack of pancakes and syrup with bacon on the side like some people did. The folks who cooked did the best they could with what they had, and they made sure the food was at least enough to fuel them for the day ahead.

 

Daryl watched his friend command the little kitchen crew. Carol was pretty damn good at it, too. She usually used a light touch; a warm smile here, a word of kindness there, and people seemed to simply fall into line. Fuck knew he'd found himself doing stuff he otherwise wouldn't have simply because she'd batted those baby blues of hers at him.

 

But, something was off about her today. Daryl squinted into the morning sun and swallowed another mouthful of his breakfast. To the untrained eye, Carol looked as competent and relaxed as she normally was in her kitchen environment. But Daryl was a hunter, and he had a sixth sense when it came to picking up subtle shifts in the world around him. She was stirring a pot a bit more vigorously than usual, and her smile vanished when she thought nobody was looking at her.

 

He finally scraped the bottom of his bowl. Ignoring the sound of his name being called in greeting somewhere to his left, he got up and strode over to the kitchen. He waited until he caught Carol's eye.

 

"More?" she asked him as she busied herself with wiping down a counter.

 

"Nah. I'm good."

 

"It's not exactly bacon and eggs. Sorry."

 

Daryl shrugged. "I got no complaints."

 

She gave a little huff, and it was a sign of how much she considered him a friend that she allowed her annoyance to slip through. "You might be the only one."

 

"World's gone to shit and people still got nothing better to do than find something to bitch about."

 

"Yeah, well, it's driving me nuts. They have to know we're doing the best we can. It's not like I can just run to the supermarket."

 

Daryl looked over and saw one of the Woodbury newcomers make a face as his breakfast was dished up to him. Carol had seen it, too. Those people were goddamn spoiled is what it was, but they'd learn soon enough. People who didn't learn to make do usually ended up dead. He turned to his friend and said, "Was gonna go out on a run today."

 

Carol looked up at him. "Oh, well, if you need a list or anything I can write something down quick."

 

"Was gonna ask Glenn or Michonne to come along, but maybe you wanna go instead?"

 

She paused mid wipe. "You want me to go on a run with you?"

 

He shrugged. "You're as good as anyone, and I figured you might wanna get out of here for a bit."

 

With her hands on her hips, she looked over at her small crew. "I guess they can manage without me. Could you give me a minute to clean up and change?"

 

"Meet me up front in an hour."

 

Carol flashed a grin at him. "It's a deal, Dixon."

 

\---

 

He figured they'd take the bike. The weather was good. Midday promised to be warm, and he didn't smell rain in the air. Besides, with just the two of them, it was easier to travel that way.

 

Daryl smoothed out a wrinkle in the map he'd opened up over the seat of the bike. It was worn from use and filled with different penned in annotations; circles, crosses and squiggles, that showed him the areas they'd already hit, and which ones were still untouched. He put his finger on an area he'd ridden past a few times. There was an old farmhouse there, he knew, but not one they'd scouted before. He'd always meant to, the place intrigued him, but the house wasn't that big, certainly not as large as the one on Hershel's farm, and it seemed to be a waste of time when richer pickings could be had in some of the more suburban areas.

 

He didn't want to drag Carol into a more overrun area today. Not that she couldn't handle herself, she'd proven that she could, but Daryl figured this run was more of a chance for her to get away from the prison than it was for them to stock up on supplies. Seemed like as good a time as any to unearth the secrets of that little farmhouse.

 

He looked up just as Carol was walking down from the cell block towards him. She wore a wide smile that made him want to grin in return, but when he took in the rest of her, he was robbed of breath. She'd taken the opportunity to change before coming down, and although he recognized the red tank and the tan jacket, he'd never in his life seen her wearing those black leather pants.

 

The pants hugged every inch of her long, slender legs, making them smooth and sleek, and fit her like a second skin. They showed off the gorgeous curve of her hips, too. Goddamn, but she was rocking those pants as if she was a runway model. Suddenly, his mouth was dry.

 

Fuck. He was staring at her like a dope. He felt his face burn as he quickly looked away. He bit the inside of his cheek and reminded himself that this was his friend, he shouldn't be looking at her like that.

 

"I'm ready whenever you are, Pookie," she said as she stopped next to his bike.

 

He snorted, still fighting with the blush on his cheeks. Thank the Lord his hair was long enough to hide behind. She liked to tease the hell out of him as it was, he'd hate to add fuel to the fire. He fumbled with the map, folding it against the grain, but not caring as he shoved it into the pocket of his vest. "Come on," he said as he swung his leg over the bike.

 

Carol got into position behind him and shimmied until she was sitting as close to him as possible. Her thighs gripped him from behind, and she slid her hands in place on his hips. He licked his lips as he couldn't help glancing down at a leather-clad knee and the boot she'd placed on the foot rest below. "What's the plan?" she said into his ear.

 

Daryl flinched, not expecting her voice to be so close. Could he be any more of a fucking idiot? He tried to cover the motion by cracking his neck as he moved his head from side to side. "Gonna scout an old farmhouse. Haven't been there yet. Maybe there's somethin' useful--an old generator or somethin'. Can always get a crew to go back later if there is."

 

"Sounds romantic. I bet you take all the girls there." Her words were a purr in his ear.

 

"Stop."

 

She chuckled. He hated how sadistic she was. She really did get a kick out of teasing him. She didn't do it to no-one else. Maybe she wouldn't have persisted if she'd known how goddamn uncomfortable it made him, especially in the pants department. As it was, his jeans were too fucking tight. With her legs that went on forever wrapped around him, and the sultry tone of her voice in his ear, and how she smelled, all sweet and savory, it made his head all fuzzy and warm.

 

To stop her from making any more digs at his expense, he started the bike. The engine roared to life.  He gave a quick nod to Carl who was manning their new gates, and as the boy yanked the pull cord to swing them open, Daryl kicked the bike into gear and released the clutch.

 

Soon, they were whipping past walkers on the left and right. Once they had reached the main road, Daryl let the bike loose. The vibration of the engine, the rush of the wind, and the open countryside all helped to relax him. At least Carol wasn't one to try and chit chat on the back of the bike. He took the opportunity to enjoy the ride and her warm presence behind him.

 

It was about a half hour later when he swung into the dirt road where the house was located. He pulled the bike to a stop a half a mile out.

 

"Don't wanna alert any walkers up close to the house. We'll go in low, come up through those trees over there, and take 'em out quiet-like."

 

Carol nodded. She clambered off the bike and gripped her knife. "I've got your back."

 

All trace of teasing had vanished from her voice. When it came to their safety, she was all business. Daryl swallowed as he forced his own scattered thoughts into line. It didn't help that she bent over to secure a knife in her boot, and he got a view of tight leather wrapped snugly around her ass. His hand twitched at his side. He ground his teeth, but didn't look away. When she stood up, he shouldered his crossbow and said, "Ready?"

 

"Lead on."

 

There were maybe five or six walkers in total ambling through the open yard around the house. The two of them crept up through the edge of the treeline, as quiet as mice. They didn't need words to communicate--this was old hat to them, something they'd done a hundred times together--and all that was needed was a look here, or a shake of the finger there, to alert the other of oncoming danger.

 

Daryl felt a fierce burst of pride for his friend. She was as stealthy as any of them, and more than some, and he knew her determination had helped her learn all he'd taught her in the past about survival.

 

He lead them down through the tall grass of the open field behind the farmhouse, and they climbed a low wooden fence into the yard. Before the walkers could pick up their scent, they were on them. He got the first two with arrows. Carol sent her knife whistling into the skull of the third.

 

She retrieved her knife, cleaning it off with a swipe on the grass, while he grabbed his arrows. He motioned for her to continue, and as they rounded the corner of the house, the fourth came groaning towards them. He smashed it in the face with the edge of his crossbow, wincing at the jarring motion. Carol stepped forward to finish the walker with a stab to the eye.  

 

Walkers five and six were closer to the house, and were turning to stumble in their direction. Daryl made a motion, and Carol nodded. In tandem, they rushed the two walkers, taking each one down with a knife stab to the head.

 

"That should be all of 'em," Daryl said in a whisper, still cautious, because you could never let your guard down. "Gonna try a window. Don't know what's inside."

 

"You want to make a noise to draw them out?" Carol said as she followed him up to the wrap-around porch.

 

Daryl looked across to the treeline. "Don't know how many are out there. Don't want to give 'em a reason to come here."

 

Carol nodded. "Okay. I'll spot you."

 

She held her knife poised as Daryl tested the lock on the first window. Every once in a while, he got lucky, today was one of those days. He was able to slide the window up relatively quietly, and he dragged the flimsy curtain aside to scan the interior. He turned to give Carol a nod, then pointed to say he was going inside.

 

Just as he was about to duck his head into the house, a blur of motion caught him and he whirled back to see a creeper sliding soundlessly across the porch towards Carol. He froze.

 

The creeper raised its hand to grasp her leg, but she whirled around and ended it with a flash of her knife. Her lunge was sloppy, and the sound of her knife passing through bone made a sickening crunch, but it was effective. The creeper's hand flopped to the floor, no longer animated.

 

Daryl felt his heart in his throat. "Sorry," he mouthed as she turned back to him, her face white.

 

She shook her head, and motioned for him to go inside. Daryl nodded. His blood pounded through him with the rush of adrenaline, and his hands shook as he climbed over the sill and into the farmhouse. As soon as he was in, he reached over and unlatched the front door to let Carol inside.

 

They closed the window, leaving the door shut but unlatched should they need to make a retreat. Daryl leaned against the wall and dragged in a deep breath to try and regain his equilibrium. What the fuck was wrong with him?

 

Carol glanced at him, her eyes showing concern, but she knew better than to say anything. Besides, they needed to clear out the house before anything else. She pointed down the hall and readied her knife. Nodding, Daryl swallowed another gulp of air and pushed off. He showed her the rooms he'd take, and Carol gave him a quick, sharp nod before setting off to scout her side of the house.  

 

Focusing on the task at hand, Daryl went through each of the rooms thoroughly. He checked under couches, and in closets, making sure none of the dead lurked there. Mercifully, the house appeared to be untouched, probably had been since before the turn, and showed signs that the young couple and small child who had lived there had been away at the time. Besides the coating of dust, everything was as neat as a pin. The family had never made it back to their home. Fuck only knew what had become of them.

 

Daryl quietly shut the door to the unfinished nursery, the last room in his section. The yellow paint inside that had once been fresh was now starting to dull. He hoped Carol had had the same luck as he, and found her rooms empty. Retracing his steps, he hurriedly peeked through the doors of the rooms she'd searched, feeling driven to find her and assure himself of her safety. When he realised he was almost frantic, he forced himself to slow down; she was a big girl who could take care of herself.

 

When he finally found her, she was standing in the master bedroom with her back to the door. As soon as she heard his footsteps echo against the wood floor, she turned around and smiled. "All clear. Not a single walker, believe it or not."

 

"Same," he said. He couldn't prevent the relief that washed over him. He wanted to reach out, to touch her, to make sure she was still warm, still living, still breathing. Why the fuck had he seized up when that geek had tried to take a bite out of her on the porch? If anything had happened to her… Daryl shook his head. "I'm sorry. 'bout what happened outside."

 

"It's not your fault. I didn't even hear the damn thing, wasn't expecting it to come from down there. I should have been paying more attention. It won't happen again, believe me."

 

"If you hadn't been so quick you'd have been bit. It's my damn fault. I hesitated."

 

"Daryl… no… I reacted so fast because I saw the look on your face. So you see, you saved me." She gave him a heartfelt smile.

 

"Damn luck, that's all. You coulda been bit."

 

"But I wasn't."

 

He didn't want to argue with her about it, so he picked at the door frame for a bit until he noticed that she was clutching something to her chest. "Whatcha got there?" he said, trying to change the subject.

 

Carol dropped her gaze to the floor, and he could have sworn he saw some color fill her cheeks. "I was just, um, going through the drawers, wanted to see if there were any clothes…"

 

Daryl raised an eyebrow. He reached out and tugged what she was holding from her grasp, lifting it up to look at it. It was an item of clothing, alright. It was some sort undergarment, a top that was white and lacy, and there were ribbons and bows, and it certainly didn't look like it'd cover a damn thing, at least not with any decency. It looked exactly like it came out of a Victoria Secret catalog.

 

"This?" he said as he looked over at her, trying hard not to smile.

 

She was definitely blushing. "It's silly," she said to the floor. "It's just that… I've never had any pretty things. Wasn't allowed to."

 

He tossed it back to her with a shrug. "Keep it. I won't say nothin'."

 

Carol held it up and snorted. "Who am I kidding? I'd look ridiculous in something like this. Hell. Can you imagine?"

 

Immediately, he did imagine it. Her words put a picture in his head of the white lace top and the black leather pants and Carol in them, or rather, slowly stripping out of them. Holy fuck. Daryl swallowed. Much more of that and he'd give himself a boner. He shook the image from his head and was about to bolt when he caught the way she gnawed on her bottom lip as she returned the piece to the drawer.

 

He cleared his throat and, before his brain could stop him, said, "Try it on."

 

Carol's gaze darted back to him. He tried his best not to wilt under the question in her eyes, even though the urge to flee was overwhelming. Her lips twitched at the corners and, without a word, she turned her back to him.

 

He let out a breath. Thank fuck she'd chosen to ignore him. His face was burning now, and he almost ran from the room, but the sound of her jacket dropping to the floor made him jerk back in surprise.

 

He stared at her, and it took a sluggish moment for his brain to catch up and realize what she was doing. When she started to peel up her red tank, revealing the creamy untanned skin beneath, he stood straighter and held his breath. Next, she shucked her undershirt. He saw the pale line of her spine and the protrusions of her shoulder blades above the strap of her bra. Her back was covered with a pattern of small scars, both recent and faded, alongside a smattering of moles and freckles.

 

She reached behind her and unhooked her bra, sliding it off her shoulders and dropping it to the floor without ceremony. Daryl sucked in a breath at the sight of her bare back. Her black leather pants hugged her ass, and as she raised her arms above her head to pull on the undergarment, he caught sight of the swell of a breast. He wanted to put his hands on her so badly, to feel all that warm skin, but instead he held them tightly at his side, nails digging into the palms of his hands.

 

Finally, she tugged the undergarment over her slim frame, adjusting it here and there until it fit to her satisfaction. Then, with her arms hugged around her, she slowly turned to face him.

 

The thing that slayed him, was the expression on her face. Her eyes were downcast; she couldn't bear to look at him looking at her. The Carol he knew was like a phoenix who'd grown from the ashes of her past life, but every so often, her old insecurities would haunt her.

 

The way her fingers clenched and unclenched where she gripped her arms ripped him in half. Hell, he knew he wasn't the right person to help her see herself as she truly was. He was a fucked up piece of shit if ever there was one. But somehow, she looked to him. She always looked to him. Fuck if he knew why.

 

His legs were itching to carry him fast and far away, but he couldn't move, because Carol needed him. She was the only friend he'd ever had. If he screwed this up… He couldn't screw this up.

 

Daryl cleared his throat and forced himself to move. He stood in front of her and slowly pried her arms apart and placed them at her side. Then he lifted her chin and made her look at him. Her mouth trembled. Her whole body shook almost imperceptibly. His heart clenched.

 

In a very purposeful way, he looked her up and down. He looked at her like he'd been wanting to all along, blatantly taking in her long legs and her subtle curves. With his eyes, he traced the shape of her breasts beneath the lacy fabric that did nothing to hide their dusky peaks. His mouth watered. The garment she wore was held together by a single ribbon between her breasts, and beneath it floated open to reveal her taught midriff. She was slender, maybe just a touch too underfed, but he was fascinated by the way her tummy curved gently and by the indentation of her belly button just above the rise of her leather pants. It was that spot, right there, that he felt the urge to bend his head to lick.

 

"Fuck," he whispered.

 

"Should I take that as a compliment?" Her question came out in a breathless rush.

 

"What do you think?"

 

"I think I should take that as a compliment."

 

Daryl looked down to where she'd directed her eyes. His boner was more than evident by the tenting of his loose fitting jeans. "How the hell am I supposed to react with you looking all sexy as hell right now?"

 

"Do you really think I'm sexy?" She was biting her lip again, but he saw the flash in her eyes and the smirk she was holding back.

 

He let out a shaky chuckle. The boner was a problem, but he could deal with that later. "You're damn lucky I don't jump you right here and screw you into the bed over there."

 

"Hmm," she said, putting her hands on her hips. The action made her boobs sway and he licked his lips. Too late, he caught the inscrutable look on her face.

 

"What?"

 

"Why don't you? Y'know--screw me?"

 

His mouth fell open. "What? Carol! We can't…" He sputtered.

 

Her brows raised. "Why not?"

 

"'Cause, we're friends. To me, you're like--" He shrugged.

 

"Like what? A sister? A mother?"

 

"Fuck, no. It's jus' that--"

 

"That what? We're friends, Daryl. You find me attractive. I find you attractive. What's the hang up here? I thought maybe you just weren't interested in sex at all, but I can see that's not the case--" she waved in the direction of his boner-- "What would be the harm in it? To experience what it means to be alive in the middle of all this death. To feel… I don't know, to feel something, I guess. Hell, I never even knew what that was like before all of this." She let out a sigh and shook her head. "If there's anyone in this world that I'd want to share something profound with, it would be you. But, if you don't--"

 

"You really mean that?"

 

Her arms were back to hugging her chest. "Of course I do."

 

Daryl scrubbed his face. He walked over to sit on the bed and leaned forward to put his head in his hands. His whole body shook with wanting her so damn much that it was hard to think. "When I was younger, not much more 'n a kid, I screwed around a lot. Different girl every week sorta thing. I ain't proud of it. But I got to a point... it didn't mean nothing. Nothing meant nothing. D'ya know what I mean?"

 

He glanced up to see her nodding. "I wanted Ed to be my knight in shining armor so badly. He was going to marry me and carry me away on his white horse and we'd live happily ever after. Our wedding night, I was so scared. I was only seventeen. I thought… I hoped he would make it easy for me. But…" Carol winced. "The details don't matter. After that, it was just an act. A tool to make him compliant. I used sex because it was the little bit of power I had."

 

Daryl felt his lip curl at the thought of Ed putting his hands on her. "You know what the worst part was? Not the girls who'd bang ya and leave right away to go back to their boyfriends or husbands, but the ones that thought it meant something. The ones that wanted to stay the night. My skin would crawl at the thought of them jus' lying there."

 

He felt the depression in the bed as she sat down beside him. She was inches away, but she didn't move to touch him. "So, how long has it been for you?" she said softly.

 

Daryl snorted. "A long fucking time."

 

"You needed the intimacy, you craved that connection with another human being, but you couldn't get it because of all the other stuff, so you stopped."

 

"Yeah, somthin' like that."

 

Carol let out a sigh and placed her hand lightly on his thigh. "Afterwards, when he was asleep, I'd curl up in a ball and cry. I hated him, yet I still continued to do what I did because I was too scared to do anything else. As much as I hated him, I hated myself more."

 

"We're both pretty fucked up, ain't we?"

 

"Yeah. But you know what, we're here, and the ones that did this to us are not. That's got to count for something."

 

He put his hand on top of hers. Their fingers laced together. There was a tightness in his chest he couldn't explain. He heard a rustle as she turned towards him, and then her fingers were on his face, gently guiding him to look at her. Her blue eyes were wide and sincere. Before he could draw in a breath, she brushed her lips across his.

 

The touch was like a spark to tinder. He couldn't pull away even if he wanted to, and as she pressed her lips to his more firmly, he groaned and returned the kiss.

 

He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close, sliding his hand up until his palm rested on the back of her neck and his fingers threaded through the short tufts and curls of hair at her nape. Carol arched into him, deepening the kiss with a push of her tongue.

 

Heat and warmth spread through him like fire as their tongues tangled together. She tasted raw and wild. The throbbing and aching of his dick was quickly becoming unbearable--he could hardly believe he'd reached that point just kissing her. It was all going to go to hell pretty damn fast if he didn't calm his shit down.

 

Daryl broke the kiss, panting for air, and pulled back to see the flush on her cheeks and the glazed look in her eyes. Fuck if he'd ever seen anything more sexy. He couldn't pin point when he first had thought of her as beautiful, and maybe he was a little ashamed that he hadn't always thought so, but right now she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

 

He stroked along her neck and collar bones, and then, with a swallow of air, pushed her gently back onto the bed. Carol looked up at him in silence, and he was glad she didn't say anything, because he wasn't sure he'd have the courage to do this otherwise. There was something in the air, maybe it was this little farmhouse, maybe it was the way she was dressed, wrapped up in leather and lace, but everything simply felt right. He didn't want to fight this anymore. She was his friend, and she was so much more. She was his everything.

 

Daryl danced his fingers over her neck and shoulders, then he tugged at the ribbon between her breasts, unraveling it. He pulled the lacy material open to expose her breasts. Her chest moved up and down as she breathed, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from her. Her nipples were dusky and drawn tight into little peaks, and her breasts were full enough that he could cup them in his hands. He tested how they felt, squeezing gently, and marveled.

 

When his thumb brushed across her nipple, she sucked in a breath. Daryl felt an answering tug in his groin. She liked what he was doing. He gave a few more experimental flicks, each one eliciting another sharp breath. With a bit of hesitation, he bent over her and drew a nipple between his lips. He smirked when she responded with a hiss. He sucked a little, then ran his tongue across it, causing Carol to hiss again. He could suck on her tits all day, if she'd let him, and he continued until she was squirming beneath him.

 

It was Carol who pushed him away, and he felt a brief stab of disappointment, until he realized she was tugging at his jacket with urgent little fingers. With a low chuckle, he helped her get rid of his jacket and shirt, then gave a unmanly squeak when she pulled him on top of her, chest to chest, and kissed him hard.

 

They tussled for a bit, kissing, touching and tasting, hands roaming up and down, until Daryl found that she'd neatly flipped him onto his back and was now straddling him. She threw him a saucy look before reaching over to tug off his boots and socks, kicking off her own in the process, then made quick work of unzipping and pulling his jeans off. Now it was his turn to suck in a breath as she wrapped her warm hand around his dick.

 

She began to stroke him, and it was too much. "I can't, Carol… shit…"

 

She let him go with a nod of her head.

 

He was left struggling to regain his composure as she rolled off the bed. For the second time, he thought he'd fucked up, but she stopped only to undo the fly of her pants and peel the black leather down, revealing her strong, elegant thighs and legs. She wasn't wearing panties. Daryl's mouth went dry.

 

Carol crawled over the bed, returning to him completely naked. She pressed a kiss against the side of his mouth, and he turned his head, to capture her lips fully. The soft groan she let out was the most mesmerizing thing he'd heard in a long time.

 

"Don't stop," he whispered against her mouth, "please…"

 

She straddled him, sitting across his thighs, then grabbed his hand and pulled it down between her legs, pushing his fingers right to her pussy. Fuck, but she was already slick. She guided his fingers, sliding them between her folds. She pressed one of his fingers against a particular spot, and she sucked in a breath. Getting the idea, he swirled his finger there and watched as her eyes drifted shut, and her hips canted towards him. All of his past associations with women had been more about him getting his rocks off than making love. He'd never taken the time to explore their bodies, to see what turned them on. Watching Carol sigh and moan as he toyed between her legs was something of a revelation. And what was more, he wanted to please her, he wanted to be the one who gave her that kind of mindless pleasure.

 

He continued, as she'd shown him, to rub and tease, circling the small nub, her clit, with his finger. Her breaths grew shallow and her hips began to make small, jerking motions.

 

"Daryl," she said, his name sounding more like a moan, "I need you. Now, please, god, now--"

 

He swallowed. "What about…?"

 

"I can't... Don't worry. Just, please, I need you inside me, now!"

 

He gave a quick nod and with his hands on her hips, he helped her position herself above him. She guided his dick to her entrance, and then he felt the warm slide of her pussy around him as she took him inside her.

 

With his dick fully seated inside her, he looked up at her. The moment was both profound and not--there was something so normal about it, so natural, that he wondered why they hadn't come together like this before. All his damn hang ups for nothing. She smiled at him. Her eyes were alight and her cheeks were flushed and for god only knew what reason, she was happy. The tightness in his chest grew to overwhelming, even more so than the throb of his dick. And that's when he knew; he fucking loved her.

 

Carol began to move on top of him, sliding up in a long, slow motion, then plunging back down and making a groan escape his mouth. She grabbed his hand and put it back on her clit, and he understood what she wanted. As she rode him, he flicked the little nub, trying to match her rhythm. He kept as still as possible, fighting every urge to flip her over and pound into her to find a quick release. This wasn't about him, not at all. This was about what she needed.

 

Her motions became shorter and sharper. Her gasps and moans turned into little cries, louder and higher with each thrust. The walls of her pussy began to tighten around him, and it felt like nothing he'd ever experienced before. And then she was there, right in front of him, crying out his name and falling apart all at once as her walls throbbed around him, and fuck if it wasn't simply beautiful.

 

She fell forward, spent, as the last shudders of her orgasm faded.

 

Daryl hugged her tightly to him, and then he heard her whisper into his ear, "I want you to fuck me, Daryl. I want to see you come."

 

His dick twitched inside her. With a growl, he flipped her onto her back. After a quick repositioning, he was once more inside her, and he couldn't believe how tight she was after her orgasm. Instinct took over, and he thrust into her over and over. He adjusted her legs, hooking them up over his shoulders, and buried himself even deeper. Watching her bite her lip as she watched him was beyond erotic. It didn't take him long to reach that point, and he jerked his hips one last time, gritting his teeth as bright hot pleasure that was almost pain poured through and out of him.

 

\---

 

He didn't know he'd fallen asleep with her wrapped around him until she gently nudged him awake. He blinked in the low light, the sunlight was quickly fading in the world outside.

 

"Hey," she said. "We'd better get going if we want to reach the prison before dark."

 

"Yeah." His voice was scratchy from sleep. He didn't want to move. Carol was curled into his side, and looking at the ceiling, he could almost pretend that the world was right, that this was their house, their life, and that nothing would ever tear them apart.

 

She brushed her fingers across his chest. "There's so little we have that can bring us even a small measure of happiness. The sound of a baby crying. The sun rising over an empty field. This."

 

"Yeah. This." He didn't know if he should be the first one to name what this was, or if it even really mattered. He ached with the sudden knowledge that he didn't ever want to lose her. Not for nothing.

 

With a sigh of reluctance, she slipped out of his arms and began to dress. "I suppose we better find some stuff to take back with us otherwise people will talk."

 

Daryl raised an eyebrow. "Let 'em. I don't give a fuck."

 

She bent down to retrieve her bra and tank top, then turned to give him a smile. "Are you sure?"

 

He picked up the lacy undergarment that lay discarded on the bed and flung it at her. "We can take this with us. And then you can move your shit into my cell, 'cause I ain't gonna sleep alone tonight." He checked himself. "If you want, that is."

 

Carol laughed. "I think we can come to an arrangement beneficial to all parties."

 

Daryl licked his lips as she pulled her pants back on. His stupid dick was twitching again and he wondered if they'd have time for a repeat… but no, it was idiocy to get caught out after dark. He rolled off the bed with a grumble and began to gather his things.

 

"What will we tell the others about this place?" She asked as they returned to where he'd left the bike.

 

"Tell 'em it's overrun. We'll keep it to ourselves."

 

She slipped her arms around him easily as they climbed on the bike, and the tightness he'd held in his chest was replaced with an indescribable warmth. "Sound's good, Dixon," she said with a purr as he brought the bike to life and they started down the road. "Our own little trysting spot. I like it. Maybe next time I'll let you use your tongue on me."

 

"Fuck!" he said as he almost lost it and sent the bike into a spin. "We're gonna be needing some ground rules."

 

He felt the vibration of her laugh behind him. She slid her hand inside his shirt and rested against his back, and he was well and truly screwed, because he found himself grinning all the way back to the prison.

 


End file.
